


Not A Lesbian

by tornyourdress



Category: Black Books (TV), Seinfeld
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Gay Bar, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tornyourdress/pseuds/tornyourdress
Summary: What happens when one Token Sitcom Girl meets another in a gay bar on Valentine's Day.
Relationships: Elaine Benes/Fran Katzenjammer
Kudos: 14





	Not A Lesbian

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sarah McNerdcakes. <3

Fran was tired of spending her Valentine’s Days going out on dates with hopelessly unattractive men and ending up back at the bookshop only to hear strange thumping noises from upstairs which she then usually tried to convince herself were perfectly normal and involving cats or escaped monkeys or something, and not Bernard and Manny going at it like rabbits. All. Night. Long.

So she went on a trip to New York. At the back of her mind was the dream that she would fall madly in love with someone and end up having a terribly romantic scenario involving the Empire State Building, lots of mixed signals and perhaps a bouquet of red roses, but she wasn’t thinking about this too much, or getting her hopes up, because she had long ago accepted the fact that her life was not a romantic movie. And if it was, she wasn’t the star.

(Manny had bought Bernard flowers before she’d left. _Flowers_. And even though Bernard had thrown the vase at Manny’s head and ranted on and on about the senselessness of giving someone dead plants as a gift, she was still feeling a tad resentful about the matter. Surely out of the three of them she was the most likely to end up in a relationship? How on earth was she the last one left standing on the field of singledom?)

And so it was Valentine’s Day, and the creepy guy she had been speaking to in that bar two bars ago, back when she’d had some sort of plan and order to her bar-hopping, had disappeared, and she was left in a place that seemed full of women who were dancing with other women, which Fran rolled her eyes at because it was so terribly juvenile to act all cuddly with your friends just to get a boy’s attention – she was very proud of the fact that she only ever used fake lesbianism as a way of getting rid of the more obnoxious persistent types of men – before she realised that actually there weren’t any men and that one over in the corner did actually have breasts and that once again she’d ended up in a gay bar by mistake.

She really had to stop doing this. She’d wound up in a gay bar at home before, and woken up the next morning with a woman in leather, and once Bernard had found out she hadn’t heard the end of it for weeks.

She vowed to avoid leather-clad types, and was in fact just about to leave – right after she’d finished her drink, because after all there was no point in wasting good alcohol – when a rather attractive woman with dark curly hair walked in, sat down beside her, and declared, “I hate men.”

“Join the club,” Fran said, before remembering that, oh, yes, this was a gay bar and the “club” could have all sorts of significances she wasn’t aware of and she could end up being taken home and have all kinds of weird and disturbing things done to her. There could be handcuffs and tubes and hanging from the ceiling. Oh dear.

The woman ordered a drink. “I’m Elaine,” she said.

See, Fran thought, that was the problem with Americans. She’d known this woman for all of two seconds and already she was hearing her bloody life story.

Or, well, her name, at least.

No one expects anyone to be logical or rational when they’ve found themselves in a gay bar three thousand miles away from their home on Valentine’s Day, after all.

Elaine took a gulp of her cocktail, looked around the bar, and groaned. “Oh, not again.”

“Yes,” Fran said helpfully, “it’s a gay bar.”

“Why does this always happen?”

“They lure you in. They want you to stop sleeping with worthless men and do it for the sisterhood,” Fran explained, finishing her drink.

“But I’m not a lesbian!” Elaine said.

Fran decided this was probably true. Elaine was very pretty and wore nice clothes, which had to mean that she wasn’t gay. In fact, she was just about as non-gay as Fran was, which meant that it would probably be okay to stay and have another drink with her.

Or seven.

By the time she had explained she wasn’t a lesbian either, they were already back in Fran’s hotel room, having been asked to leave the bar on the grounds that they were being too drunk and disorderly or some kind of nonsense like that, and Elaine had taken off her shoes, and they were sitting on the bed drinking room-service-brought champagne and comparing bad-dates-with-men stories, so that the clarification was really completely unnecessary.

Fran felt that it was quite relevant, though, because she had a sneaking suspicion that she quite wanted to have sex with this Elaine, which meant that it was very important to establish that she was not a lesbian. And sure enough, Elaine declared, “well, as long as you’re not a lesbian, it’ll be okay.”

“I’m not. Not at all,” Fran said, and Elaine leaned in to kiss her.


End file.
